


Date Night

by a_secret_scribbler



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren Fluff, Date Night, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, Nice Armitage Hux, Romantic Comedy, There are cushion covers with faces, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, rum truffles, satin kimono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24806563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secret_scribbler/pseuds/a_secret_scribbler
Summary: Hux had to hand it to Captain Phasma, his second in command had done an excellent job instigating the monthly date nights.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	Date Night

It was date night on the Finalizer, there was a buzz of excitement, and the heady, lingering, scent of Lynx Africa in the air. Hux fussed with his eyebrows once more, plucking out one stray hair that ruined the symmetry of his face, he squinted in the mirror, checking his nostrils, though he knew his impeccable grooming had deforested that particular area earlier that morning. Sliding his Platinum Tweezerman’s into their special case, he stepped out of the fresher and casually draped himself across his couch. He had to hand it to Captain Phasma, his second in command had done an excellent job instigating the monthly date nights. When she had approached him initially, he had been dubious, but the opportunity to sift through the pink slips which requested that particular evening off duty, and trying to work out who was doing what to who, had proved too much of a temptation, even to him, a man not known for indulgences. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed rubber stamping the request for the “so called” Knights of Ren, who had submitted a rather startling, and way too detailed, request for a six way, but administration was part of his job. That, and shouting, and he prided himself on the latter.

Hux waited patiently in his rooms, the lighting was perfect, just bright enough to show the highlights in his precision combed hair, but dim enough to mask the shadows under his eyes from the hours he had spent lying awake worrying about the amount of printer ink that the ship was getting through. He was going to have to send out another strongly worded, cease and desist email. Why, only yesterday, he had spotted at least nineteen A4 posters advertising a Bake Sale plastered over the corridor walls. Now he loved a freshly baked slice of banana bread with his morning caff as much as any man, but defacing the shiny walls of his beloved ship was beyond a joke.

Glancing at the clock, he rose and re-plumped his throw cushions, lining them up either end of the couch. He hoped that his beau would appreciate the trouble that he had gone to, having their faces rendered in such a lifelike manner on the two satin cushion covers. Getting them done in time, and paying extra for the overnight delivery had been totally worth it, they added a certain je ne sais quoi to the ambiance of the room.

On a sideboard the wine was breathing, and two crystal goblets glinted in the light of a carefully positioned tea light. He had ordered the wine from his home planet of Arkanis, and hoped that it’s subtle hint of dark berries and metal polish would be appreciated by a palate less refined than his own. Eight exquisite rum truffles were displayed on a tea plate, selected from his second best dinner service, each lined up with mathematical precision on a lacy doily, obviously! He wasn’t a savage! In the kitchen the steaks were marinading and the salad was in need of a last minute toss. The dark, bitter, chocolate mousses required only the addition of edible gold flake to complete them. He would serve them on dishes dusted with cocoa, and garnished with three plump, perfectly ripe, raspberries.

It was almost time for his guest to arrive, he checked his reflection in the full length mirror near the door, where he hovered nervously. The black satin kimono, with its depiction of The Battle of Coruscant neatly picked out in silk thread and beads on the back, clung to his lean frame enticingly. He picked off one stray cat hair that had resisted the lint roller, thankfully Millicent was staying with her Auntie Phas tonight, so he had no more worries in that direction, every surface was spick and span, and polished to a high shine.

The knock on the door fell within the acceptable 15 second too early/too late time window, so he opened it eagerly, his face displaying what could be described as a predatory smirk by someone who wasn’t used to his resting bitch face. There, in all his glory, stood Kylo Ren, be-cloaked, be-masked, be-booted. New leggings, that still bore the shop security tag attached to the hip seam, clutching a bouquet of what might have looked like red roses, last week, if you stood on one leg, and squinted. Hux fluttered his eyelashes prettily. But...hang on...be-masked!

“Take that off at once!” He demanded, pitching his voice just south of foghorn.

Kylo braced himself and shook his head.

“I demand to know why you are wearing that...thing...again!” Hux hissed, flapping his slender hands like two pale butterflies dancing in the sunlight, in Monet’s Giverny garden.

“I hab a code” the be-masked man mumbled.

“...a what now?”

“A CODE! My dose ib sduffy ‘nd sore.” Kylo whimpered, pathetically, reaching under the helmet and releasing its catches. Lifting it slowly he revealed a hot, sweaty face sporting a crusty nose, cracked lips, lank, greasy hair, and a painfully vulnerable pair of deep brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Holy Shit!” Hux exclaimed, recoiling. This creature was surely not the same demigod who had revealed himself, all those months ago on the landing dock, in what he now privately referred to as “The Phwoarrs Awakened!”? Well, his libido certainly had. Little Armitage had leapt to attention, standing proudly on parade until Hux had managed to wrestle him into submission with a rather spectacular Hands Solo in the fresher that evening. Surely, that creature had flowing locks that had caused princesses all over the galaxy to shave their heads in shame? A noble face? A serious brow? Melting eyes of deepest chocolate brown? Skin, kissed by the stars? Lips that made a trout pout? An eight pack! Hux had counted, twice.

Before him, right now, stood a dripping, feverish, weak-kneed, wretch, who needed to be in bed. And not in a good way.

“Kylo, go back to your room, get in bed, I’ll send a medi-droid with something to fix you up. Go on, off you go. Spit, spot!”

Kylo looked downcast.

“I dibn’t wanna s’boil id” he snuffled.

Hux rolled his eyes.

“I’ve gone to no trouble. Nothing that won’t keep,” he said, pulling the door closed behind him, “We’ll reschedule when you’re feeling better.”

The poor wretch’s shoulders drooped, and a dewdrop formed on his nose, in a way that Hux was pretty sure that he shouldn’t have found sexy. He would totally have to re-examine his kinks, at a later date, in private.

He patted Kylo on the behind, taking a mental note to use hand sanitiser at the first opportunity, and pointed him in the direction of Go Away, watching as his endearingly, pigeon-toed sweetheart, dragged himself down the corridor, back to his own rooms.

Hux let himself back into his room, turned the lights up a little brighter, and squirted a large dollop of conveniently placed hand sanitiser onto his defiled fingers. The rum truffles were calling him with their siren cry, so he popped one into his mouth and sucked at the vermicelli coating. He was already planning an Extraordinary Meeting of the Onboard Recreation Committee for first thing on Monday morning, where they would vote on, and pass, his recommendation to bring the next date night forward by two weeks. This would give Kylo time to recover and get his strength back, and Hux time to purchase those pretty unicorn shaped table lamps, he’d been eyeing up. Perhaps he could practice his choux pastry skills too? Profiteroles would surely appeal to his sweet-toothed beastling, after all, he was always at his happiest when he had something delicate, spherical, and full of cream, in his mouth...


End file.
